


Tall, dark Stranger

by neitherbluenorgreen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, One Night Stand, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 02:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20520320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neitherbluenorgreen/pseuds/neitherbluenorgreen
Summary: Loki takes a detour while on Earth and meets a bar maid





	Tall, dark Stranger

Chelsea leant against the bar, holding an ice-cold bottle of beer to her temple. She was watching the dust dance in the light that was filtering through the dirty windows, bored out of her mind, but too lazy to play pool or darts or do something useful, like cleaning the counter-top.

She usually didn’t show up at “Kenny's” until after dark, but Adele had asked her to cover her shift. Apart from two old guys playing cards in a dark counter, the bar was empty. It was a Wednesday, just past noon, and even for June it was too hot. It hadn’t rained in weeks, making everything dusty and nobody who didn’t have to left their air-conditioned house. The building that housed “Kenny's” was old, with thick walls, high ceilings and a clever venting system, but the constant heat had permeated even these heavy bricks. All the ventilators somebody had put up did was moving the thick air around. The radio played inane pop songs, but she was feeling too sluggish to even raise the energy to change the station.

She took another big gulp from her slowly warming beverage and wondered if anybody would notice if she’d skipped across the street. The little store had air con and most of the usual customers were likely there, getting cheaper beer in a cold store, which they could take home in their air-conditioned cars, to drink lying in their kids’ kiddy’s pools.

But crossing the street meant stepping out into the sun, walking over hot tarmac. She grimaced and decided it wasn’t worth getting a sun burn. Plus she’d have to leave the store again and it would seem even hotter then.

She pushed herself off the bar and put the now empty bottle into a crate. She really should switch to water now, but a slight buzz might take off the edge of boredom and misery.

Just as her fingers closed around the neck of the next beer, the front door opened. She straightened up, squinting at the silhouette in the doorway.

“Hey there,” she called, trying to sound welcoming.

The newcomer took a moment to take in the room and the people in it. When he shut the door behind him, Chelsea noticed that he was dressed all in black. As he walked over, she could see that he didn’t seem to be distressed by the heat at all, his black shirt spotless, his tie straight. The jacket of his bespoke suit looked far too warm for this weather, but he didn’t sweat. His long, black hair was brushed back, framing his pale face. Even walking five feet in this weather with that complexion should have given him a sunburn, but his skin wasn’t showing even a hint of red.

A smile played around his lips, obviously amused by her overt curiosity. He was damn handsome, with sharp cheekbones and clear, green eyes.

“What can I get ya?” Chelsea asked after a moment of staring at him.

“Ice water, please,” he replied and his voice made her shiver. It was deeper than she had expected, with an accent she couldn’t place.

“Coming right up,” she mumbled and turned to the fridge, thankful to be able to hide her blush. Those eyes were the strangest she’d ever seen and though she hated clichés they did seem to pierce her soul. She had the feeling he was knowing exactly what she was thinking and just how attractive she found him.

She filled a glass with ice and placed it in front of him, opening a small bottle of water and pouring it over the ice. His eyes never left hers, just as the smirk kept playing around his lips.

Chelsea had always taken herself to be cool and collected, slightly aloof towards most men. She was being chased after, tended to toy with guys and she had never felt like this. Even when she was in school, it didn’t matter if she’d fancy a guy – their gazes had never made her throat feel constricted, her mouth dry. She felt almost hypnotised watching him close his long, elegant fingers around the drink, lifting it up to his lips and tilting it up. She could almost feel the chilly liquid run down his throat, his mouth filling with the fresh coldness. Feeling silly, she grabbed a rag and wiped away the condensate his glass had left on the counter top to stop herself from fidgeting.

He shifted and took a wallet from his jacket, counting a few notes and putting them in front of her.

“That’s far too much,” she protested with a laugh.

He leaned forward, a conspiratory smile on his lips and he winked at her.

“Maybe I can get some information then?” he asked.

She nodded mutely, her brain wiped clean of every knowledge she ever had and at the same time she knew, she’d tell him everything he wanted to know, no matter what he’d ask.

He took her silence as invitation.

“I’m a scholar,” he began, the outdated word not sounding strange from his lips. “I heard there’s a place near this town that’s considered haunted.”

Chelsea nodded eagerly.

“You’re speaking of Old Nick’s Church,” she supplied. At his inviting gesture, she continued.

“The story goes that some newly arrived settlers wanted to have their own church. They weren’t exactly welcome here, being the unsavoury type.”

His smile had become quite sardonic and she wondered if he considered himself the unsavoury type, too. She licked her lips and brushed her hair back.

“They said they had their own minister arriving, but he couldn’t be there in time. However they got a local preacher to bless the ground-breaking. When the day arrived and he showed up, something went wrong. Afterwards there were lots of rumours, like nobody could really remember what he looked like and the preacher the guys had talked to claimed he’d been delayed, never arriving at the building site.”

“What went wrong?” the stranger asked, his eyes wide with curiosity. Absent-mindedly she wondered if he shouldn’t be taking notes, but most likely he knew all this and was just looking for different accounts of the story.

“Well,” she shrugged and got herself another beer. “When my Nana told the story, she said a bird flew over the place when the man was blessing it and it just fell down from the sky, dead as a doornail. I also heard something about a small animal running up and cutting himself on the spade that was to break the ground, bleeding out at once.”

He nodded, as if her story confirmed something.

Chelsea opened the bottle and took a long gulp, the cold brew running over her tongue and she caught herself wondering if his mouth was still cold from the ice water.

She cleared her throat and finished her tale: “They build the church nevertheless and there were a bunch of freaky accidents happening during construction. When the day came when the church was to be dedicated, their newly arrived minister stepped into the church and fell over dead on the doorway.”

She took another sip and cocked her head. “Ever since the place is considered to be haunted, with people claiming they’re hearing voices, seeing strange lights or that satanic rituals are performed there.”

While she talked, he had been hanging on her lips, which helped her calm down, feeling she was gaining the upper hand at least. Now he leaned back, his brows furrowed as if he was considering the implications of her story.

She reached for the money, asking with a smile: “Did you get your money’s worth?”

To her surprise he placed his hand over hers, stopping her from taking the money, freezing her in place. His hand was cold, strong, making hers seem small.

“One more thing,” he drawled, his voice raspy, darker. “Do you know what the name of that dead minister was?”

He slid his hand back, without waiting for a reply. Feeling a strange sense of loss, it took her a moment to concentrate on his question. She bit her lip and tried to remember.

“I don’t think I ever heard it. But old Joe over there knows every story from around here.”

She turned and pointed at the corner Joe and Harlan were sitting in, still playing cards.

When she turned back, the man was gone, only the sound of the door closing after him and the empty glass witness to his existence.

She stared at the glass and the puddle of water that had formed underneath it. She picked it up, very consciously not looking at the spot where his lips had touched the rim.

Just then she became aware that Mick Jagger was crooning “Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah” from the radio and she snorted. The heat must have cooked her brains.

Three nights later on her regular shift, he came back. Still dressed all in black, still looking impeccable. Her breath caught when their eyes met over the crowd that had gathered despite the heat. For a moment she had the urge to flee, get away from him at all cost, but her feet didn’t move. Another cliché popped into her head, about a rabbit and a snake, but then he was at the bar, grinning at her as if he knew her thoughts again.

“Oh hey,” she greeted him, trying to sound casual. “Got all the information you needed?”

“Quite,” he replied, his smile quite content. “Thank you for your help.”

In spite of her plans to not fall under his spell again, she felt herself smile and blush, pleased by what was probably just politeness.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“An ice water, please,” he ordered.

For the rest of the night his intense gaze rested on her, following her through the room. Usually she’d feel annoyed or creeped out, but it just felt as if he was looking out for her. It made her feel safe. Even though she had never considered “Kenny's” unsafe in the least. It was her turf, she knew everybody here and if anybody would so much as call her a name, he’d have every patron at his throat. Still, his eyes on her felt good.

He only drank water all night and she did the same, not wanting her head any more muddled than it was anyhow. He seemed to have a pull on her, making her look his way often to make sure he was still there.

To her relief he stayed.

The night was a typical Saturday night, if a bit less busy than usual. In a small town like this everybody knew to keep an eye on the kids who pretended to be old enough to drink, letting them have a beer or two. The few loners were still part of the group and if somebody’s mate had too much, he’d be taken home before he’d make a fool of himself.

It took Chelsea a while to realise that nobody seemed to notice the newcomer. Usually he’d have been the talk of the town, but nobody had mentioned him the past few days and he drew no curious looks. It wasn’t as if he was invisible, people stepped around him, a slightly tipsy girl brushed him and mumbled an excuse, but nobody really saw him. Except her.

Around midnight the crowd began to thin out. She drifted back to her stranger more often, having less patrons to be an excuse not to be closer to him.

“Did you get the name of that minister?” she asked him, having wrecked her brain for something to talk about. He grinned, making her wonder if it was so obvious that she just wanted to spent time near him.

“In fact, I did,” he replied, looking a bit proud. “Your town’s library keeps some fairly old records.”

“Oh really?” Chelsea was surprised. “I thought it was mostly children’s and cooking books.”

He chuckled. “If you ask nicely and show some interested in local history, the librarian is quite eager to show you the archives.”

Something about the way he said this made her jealous, which was silly. The librarian was a little old lady who was thankful for anybody who stumbled through her door. She’d be thrilled to have somebody actually asking for something different than Harry Potter or The Margaret Fulton Cookbook. Still, she wished herself in the old lady’s place, being somewhere deep within the archive alone with him, sorting through old catalogues…

She shook her head before her thoughts drifted off to dangerous territory.

“Are you going to write a book about the church?” she asked to distract herself from thinking about his strong hands pushing her against a shelf, shrugging off that black jacket.

“Something like that, yes,” he answered, but there was a clear undertone of amusement in his voice.

Just then George, who shared her shift, came over.

“I reckon we can close up earlier today,” he told her. “Most likely everybody got a slab and is sitting outside now.”

“I guess so. Just go along, I’ll close up,” Chelsea offered.

“Yeah? Great! Thanks,” George grinned.

“No worries,” she grinned back.

George clapped her on the shoulder and walked over to the end of the bar where some of his mates sat.

“Okay everybody,” Chelsea called out, “last call! One more and you have to go home!”

There was a bit of good-natured grumbling, but she knew it wouldn’t be a problem closing up half an hour later. Helping George serving the last orders she was busy for a while.

“It’s usually more busy I take it?” the man in black asked her when she turned her attention back to him.

“It’s the weather. We’re used to hot summers here, make no mistake, but this last weeks? Crazy.” She shook her head. “I’m really wishing for a thunderstorm right now.”

For a second it seemed as if his eyes were blazing and a scowl twisted his mouth, but in a flash his face was pleasant again, making Chelsea wonder if it had been just a trick of the light.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” he commented dryly. “I bet it won’t be long before you’ll have some serious thunder.”

She raised an eyebrow at the comment, but he didn’t elaborate.

One after another the other patrons left “Kenny's”, most on their own feet, some being helped. George checked on Chelsea, but she insisted he should go on.

It wasn’t long until she was alone with the stranger, who had been sitting across form her all night, sipping water. She wiped down the counter-top, aware of how he followed her every movement with his eyes. It wasn’t really late in her book, most Saturday nights for her ended just before sunrise. There wasn’t much to clean up tonight and he helped her putting up the chairs. They started at opposite ends of the room, working their way towards each other. The tension that had been coiling in Chelsea’s stomach all night became almost painful. With every step, with every minute passing, she felt she was closer to that moment - the moment she had been waiting for ever since he had first stepped into the bar.

He was working calmly, steadily, taking a chair, turning it around, setting it on the table, moving to the next. The only thing betraying his coolness was the fire burning in his eyes every time their gazes met.

Finally everything was tidy. Chelsea placed the last chair on the table before her. She had her back to him and her hands were clutching the chair’s legs for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The second she turned around, his mouth was on hers. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, the other cupped the back of her head. His mouth was as cool as she had imagined, but far from lacking passion. She pressed herself against him, grabbing his jacket by the lapels even though there was no way she could have drawn him closer.

She broke their kiss after a long time. His fingers dug into her hip and she had to to make herself step away.

“Wait a moment,” she whispered and hurried to the door, locking it. She leaned against the door and looked at him, standing casually in the middle of the bar, watching her with that same knowing smile. She pushed herself off the door and closed the distance between them again. He gathered her into his arms again at once, his lips on her neck, travelling down to her collarbone. She closed her fist around his tie and tugged at it, slowly walking him backwards to the bar. Without hesitating, he hoisted her up on the counter-top when they reached it. He was tall enough to be able to kiss her easily when he stepped between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening their kiss and moaned into his mouth when she felt his hands trace over her sides, running down and up again to cup her breasts. She felt her nipples tighten almost painfully, pushing herself into him, her legs wrapping around his waist.

His elegant fingers quickly undid her blouse, pushing it off her shoulders. He took the lacy fabric of her bra and pushed it down, freeing her breasts. He broke their kiss to fasten his lips on one of her nipples, sucking it into his mouth and teasing it with the tip of his tongue until she dug her nails into his shoulders whimpering. He switched to the other nipple, treating it just the same. Her hands wandered into his hair, clutching it hard. It only made him suck harder, making her gasp when he grazed his teeth over the sensitive peak.

She pulled hard on his hair, but it took some force before he let go of her tit. The dangerous grin on his face when he finally let her tilt his head back sent a gush of hotness into her core. She stared at him, fascinated by his duality: the hunger and lust in his eyes contrasting his relaxed stance, his cool exterior.

“Last chance,” he purred, his voice dark and dangerous.

“For what?” she whispered.

“To flee,” he growled and she let go of his hair in surprise. He hesitated a moment, his body-language telling her she could push him back and hop of the bar. She didn’t move, her hands resting on his shoulders. He inclined his head, a gentlemanly gesture that made her laugh softly.

He stopped her amusement with another fierce kiss, claiming her lips hungrily. With a loud snapping sound he tore off her bra, freeing her breasts. His quick fingers teased her nipples until she couldn’t help but rub herself against him, desperate for relief from the need that burned in her. After a seemingly endless time of sweet torture, he stepped back, helping her down. The moment her feet hit the ground, his hands were on the buttons of her jeans. Quickly he stripped them down together with her underwear, leaving her naked. With ease he picked her up and set her back onto the bar. His fingers travelled over her legs, caressing her knees and trailing a path up her leg. With the lightest touch he made her spread her legs wide again.

He took a moment to drink her in, his eyes roaming over her body. He licked his lips and stepped close again, kissing her gently. The kiss started sweet and slowly, his tongue almost shy. Ever so slowly he deepened the kiss, his fingertips moving from her knee to her core painfully slow. With his other arm he held her in place, keeping her immobile without forcing his strength on her. All she could do was clutch his shoulders, digging her nails into his strong back.

Even when his fingers finally found their goal, his feather-light touch did nothing to quell the need for friction. He took his time, exploring her with his fingertips, carefully, softly, parting her labia just enough to spread her wetness around. She tried to buck her hips into his touch, but he only drew his fingers back. Breaking the kiss, he leaned back his head to look at her.

“Oh my, so eager,” he purred, gently tipping the pad of one finger against her clit.

She growled, not able to speak and he laughed softly. She slid one arm down between them, rubbing her hand over the bulge his cock made. He licked his lips, his finger applying slightly more pressure. Taking this as an invitation she began to massage him through the fabric of his suit, feeling him grow harder. Freeing her other hand, she zipped down his fly, freeing his cock from it’s confinement. It was his turn to buck into her hand and she laughed with glee. His eyes had grown heavy-lidded but now widened again and with a small “tsk”-ing sound he pushed a finger into her, curling it. She groaned, her voice husky and full of need. His cock twitched against her and he kissed her again, more urgent than before. His hands dug into the flesh of her thighs and he rocked his hips against her hands.

She guided his cock to her opening, rubbing it’s head against her wetness before letting go of it. Without hesitation he pushed into her, drawing another deep groan from her. He held onto her for a moment, letting her adjust and drawing out the moment of anticipation.

She shifted her hips slightly, so he could sink deeper into her. She felt him pulsing against her walls, stretching her deliciously.

He bent down for another soft kiss and when their lips met, he began rocking into her. His movements were steady, drawing out only ever so slightly before sliding his hardness back into her wetness. She supported herself with her hands braced against the counter-top. Soon Chelsea wasn’t able to keep her voice down, her groans becoming louder and louder, spurring him on. With each stroke he brought her closer to her climax, steady like the tide washing up the waves higher up the beach. As his cock moved inside her, she felt the lust and anticipation mount inside her until she felt as if she must explode. She opened her eyes again, not having realised she had closed them, needing to see him. Still fully dressed, he looked more sexy than any man she had ever seen naked. He was staring at her, gauging every reaction, adjusting his movements to please her even more. Concentrating fully on her, only his clenched teeth betraying how much he held back. Together with his hardness hitting just the right spot inside her, it was more than enough for her to come undone.

Her thoughts shut off, leaving only waves of pleasure rolling over her, swallowing her in an explosion of heat and bliss.

Her lover kept his pace, never faltering, guiding her through her orgasm, keeping it going longer than she had ever thought possible. Very slowly, she felt the intense fire ebb away, leaving a pulsing warmth. It felt as if she was swimming back up into reality and she needed a moment to gather her thoughts enough to speak, to fight through the haze the pleasure had left behind.

With a tremor in her voice, raw from screaming out her release, she commanded: “Don’t hold back any more.”

His answering groan fired her up again and when he slipped out of her, only to turn her around and with hasty gentleness bend her over the bar, she knew she was close to coming again.

Again he entered her slowly, enjoying ever inch of her as he filled her up again.

“Hold on to the edge,” he growled and she grabbed the wood, thankful for the hard steadiness it offered.

She was only just prepared for the force of his passion as he picked up where they had left off. Again, she felt a fullness she had never known she had been missing. She lost herself in their rhythm, knowing only this feeling of him inside her.

The emotions that flooded her, made everything else seem irrelevant, their union the only thing left that mattered.

She hardly noticed it when he picked her up and cradled her against him, sitting on the floor next to the bar. She was still feeling echoes rolling through her, his gentle caresses and kisses slowly bringing her back to earth. She found her face buried against his shirt, his jacket covering her.

With wonder, she looked up to his face, finding him watching her with a smile on his face.

She fell asleep then, only waking up when morning broke. He helped her dress and led her home, tugging her in.

When she woke up around noon, she found his tie lying on the pillow next to her, telling her it hadn’t been a dream.


End file.
